


throw blankets over my barbed wire

by johnllauren



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Campaign: Graduation (The Adventure Zone), Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29209515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: Somehow, against his will, the list of things Argo cares about - strike that, the list of things Argo loves - has expanded by two since his arrival at school. Loathe as he is to admit it, Argo cares about Fitzroy and the Firbolg, and he’s pretty sure they care about him too. And the worst part of that is the way they show up in the dreams.
Relationships: Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	throw blankets over my barbed wire

**Author's Note:**

> long time no see maplekeenes... i missed yall  
> title from tolerate it by taylor swift

Argo Keene knows what it’s like to lose everything. 

For years, his everything had just been his mother and the Mariah, and he’d lost both of them. Technically, he’d only lost them once each, but that didn’t stop his subconscious from replaying those moments for him over and over. The dreams had started as soon as his mother died, and they haven’t stopped, and all Argo can do is _deal_ with it. 

It had been awkward explaining it to Fitzroy and the Firbolg. They’d only known each other for a week, things were still awkward between them, and here Argo was, waking up in the middle of the night and making far too much noise while doing it. Fitzroy had scowled at him, though the Firbolg hadn’t budged, and it was all Argo could do to whisper an apology while he tried to calm himself down. 

Somehow, against his will, the list of things he cares about - strike that, the list of things he loves - has expanded by two since his arrival at school. Loathe as he is to admit it, Argo cares about Fitzroy and the Firbolg, and he’s pretty sure they care about him too. And the worst part of that is the way they show up in the dreams. 

He sees it all the time, sees all the ways Fitzroy and the Firbolg could _die_ in front of him, how they could be ripped away from him while all he can do is watch. The worst ones, though, all involve him fucking up somehow. Him making a mistake and getting one or both of them killed and having to live with that guilt for the rest of his life. 

He’s no stranger to waking up panting, his heart pounding, the knot in his chest tightening, sometimes even crying. It’s embarrassing, yes, but at least he’s alone. At least the Firbolg sleeps like the dead and doesn’t notice, at least he doesn’t share a room with Fitzroy anymore, at least he knows how to calm himself down. Some days over breakfast Fitzroy looks at him with that look in his eyes, like he _knows_ something is up with Argo, or maybe he’d heard Argo screaming in the other room, and Argo doesn’t say anything. Fitzroy, mercifully, has yet to bring it up again. 

_In whatever situation his mind has decided to play for him tonight, he is running. His movements are quick and stiff and he can feel his heart pounding and he knows immediately that he’s running away from something. It’s dark, and the only thing he can hear is his labored breathing so he doesn’t know if he’s alone but he can only hope that he is, can only hope that he hasn’t roped anyone else into whatever trouble he’s found himself in._

_There’s a terrible slashing sound, followed by an unmistakable yell of pain, and Argo’s heart sinks as he realizes he’s not alone. It sinks further as the person calls out for him and he realizes it’s Fitzroy._

_“Fitzroy,” he’s saying, searching through the darkness, arms in front of him searching desperately._

_“I’m right here,” comes the eventual response, but it’s choked._

_Argo’s hands make contact with him and then he’s sitting in front of Fitzroy, only barely able to make out his features. Fitzroy is clutching his side and when Argo places a hand over Fitzroy’s, it comes away wet with blood. He tries to pull himself out of panic mode, tries to think about the proper first aid practices, and comes up with nothing. He knows how to take the blame for things, and Fitzroy’s other henchperson knows economics, and neither of them knows how to save their fucking villain._

_“Hey, Argo, it’s alright,” Fitzroy says, his voice low and raspy and strangely serene._

_Argo shakes his head. “No, no, this isn’t-”_

_He’s the hench. He should’ve been the one to take the blow. Fitzroy should be comforting him or maybe even just saying goodbye and leaving him behind to save himself. Argo wouldn’t have blamed him._

_Fitzroy shushes him. “There’s nothing you can do.”_

_Argo tries to argue and finds that he can’t. There are footsteps getting closer to them but Argo can’t bear to leave Fitzroy alone, not when he’s like this, no matter what happens to either of them-_

He is woken up by something shaking his arm, and he starts. The choked scream that escapes him is unplanned and frankly embarrassing, but he can’t help it. 

“Argo? Argo, are-” he recognizes the voice immediately. 

“ _Fitzroy_.” 

Fitzroy is leaning closer to him, his hand just barely not touching Argo’s arm anymore. His eyebrows are drawn in concern and he looks scared, for lack of a better word, and Argo’s brain takes a couple seconds to calibrate before registering that the dream wasn’t real but Fitzroy is, and Fitzroy came here for him, to help him. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Are you alright?” He sounds worried, and it makes Argo feel guilty. 

He sits up in bed and takes a deep breath, but it does nothing to help the way he’s _shaking._ “‘M fine,” he says, which contradicts pretty much everything else about him. 

“Was it a vision?” Fitzroy asks. He’s sitting on the edge of Argo’s bed and his face looks so concerned that Argo has to look away. The idea of anyone being worried about him, let alone that person being _Fitzroy,_ is too much. 

Argo shakes his head. “Jus’ a bad dream.” 

Fitzroy furrows his eyebrows. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks. His voice is still somewhat uncertain, but it’s warming down to its usual annoying almost-roast, and it makes Argo feel safer. 

Argo shakes his head again. He swallows, keeping his gaze on the floor. Shame colors his cheeks and he feels like _shit_ for making Fitzroy worry about him over something like a dream. “Sorry, Fitz, you can go back to bed, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Don’t be sorry, Argo,” Fitzroy says, his gaze softening. “I’d rather be here for you than be asleep.” 

Fitzroy says it so easily but it sounds so _vulnerable,_ and Argo still feels bad but something tells him he would feel the same way if he had woken up to the sound of Fitzroy having a nightmare. He doesn’t respond. 

“You’re shaking,” Fitzroy says, a few moments later. Argo wants to contradict him, but he looks at his hand and finds that Fitzroy is right, he’s shaking like a leaf. 

Argo exhales a nervous laugh. “Yeah, that happens sometimes,” he waves his hand dismissively, but it’s shaking so bad he knows Fitzroy notices. 

“Argo, can I-” Fitzroy opens his arms. Argo cocks his head to the side, confused. 

Fitzroy pauses. His eyes dart around and he looks almost scared. When Argo doesn’t respond, he continues, “Can I… touch you?”

_Oh._

Argo looks at him for a second, trying to parse if this is some kind of cosmic joke, like he can’t honestly believe Fitzroy would ever want to give him physical contact. But Fitzroy is earnest, and his eyes are set and caring and Argo wants to melt. So he nods, shifts in bed until he’s closer to Fitzroy, and lets Fitzroy fold him into his arms. 

“There we go,” Fitzroy says softly, resting his chin on top of Argo’s head. 

Argo exhales a shaky breath and lets his head rest on Fitzroy’s chest. Fitzroy is warm and comforting and one of his hands traces circles on Argo’s shoulder idly as they sit there, like there’s nothing he wants more than to be right here, and Argo closes his eyes and lets himself believe that for the time being. He can go back to his useless fucking pining later, when his heart rate has calmed down and he isn’t shaking and Fitzroy isn’t holding him. 

Fitzroy starts humming under his breath. Argo doesn’t recognize the song, but doesn’t want to interrupt Fitzroy by asking. He’ll ask later, he decides, and maybe Fitzroy will sing it with the words if he’s lucky. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Fitzroy asks, after he’s stopped humming. 

Argo doesn’t know how to respond.

“You don’t have to, it’s okay,” Fitzroy continues, saving Argo from having to come up with a response. 

“I’m sorry,” Argo says finally, his voice surprisingly weak and small against Fitzroy’s chest. 

Fitzroy shakes his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” 

“Did I wake you up?”

“I was already awake.” He says, and pauses. Waits a moment. “Look, Argo, I don’t want to pry, but… are you sure it wasn’t a vision? I just want to make sure we’ve… covered all our bases.” 

Argo nods. “It wasn’t a vision. This just… happens sometimes.” 

“I’m sorry,” Fitzroy says then, and it takes Argo aback. “I’ve heard you before, and I never did anything. I was too… afraid, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You don’t have to do any of this.”

“I want to.” Fitzroy says. “No offense, Argo, but you can’t make me do anything. I’m here because I want to be.”

“Okay,” Argo says, and tries to let himself believe it. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Fitzroy says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr as always is lafayettesass!


End file.
